


no strings

by spacebubble



Series: Roleswap AU [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Character Study, Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, Roleswap AU, Slice of Life, ambiguously unrequited feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 03:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15548367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebubble/pseuds/spacebubble
Summary: Constable Quark drops by the bar and Odo offers him a drink.





	no strings

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little ficlet to remind myself I can still write non-explicit, short things. ^_^

Odo can't help it - he perks up immediately at the sight of the station's chief of security striding into the bar.

"Constable!" Odo calls out, beckoning Quark over with a flirty wave of his sleek and slender ponytail. He's almost tempted to shift the end of his ponytail into a hand with two curled fingers, but he knows how much that would annoy Quark. "To what do I owe the _pleasure_?"

(He makes sure the emphasize the last word in as salacious a manner as possible. Only the best for his favorite Ferengi.)

Quark rolls his eyes as he walks over to the counter, disappointingly still in his typical beige Bajoran uniform. "Nothing special, Odo. Just making my usual rounds."

"Mm-hmm." Odo leans forward onto the counter, angling his chest towards Quark, and shifts the opening of his shirt just a touch more. 

Quark glances down briefly, then snaps his eyes back up, blushing slightly. 

"Can I get you anything?" Odo asks. 

Quark folds his arms. "You know I don't drink."

"I meant something non-alcoholic," Odo adds smoothly, smiling as if he's always had that in mind. (And he has, actually - he always keeps _everything_ about Quark in his mind.) "Could I tempt you, perhaps, with an ice cold glass of the latest seasonal Slug-O-Cola?"

Something softens in Quark's expression. "You imported Slug-O-Cola?"

"Just a case or two," Odo replies. He raises his nonexistent eyebrows with a flirtatious swiftness. "Thought you might like a taste of home."

For a second, Quark looks like he believes him, looks flattered, gains a pretty blush to the cheeks -

Then he rolls his eyes. 

"Let me guess," Quark says dryly. "You needed to stay in the good graces of your main distillery contact on Ferenginar, so he convinced you to buy something that only a minuscule percentage of your clientele would ever drink." He shakes his head. "And probably overcharged you the typical offworlder rate to boot."

Odo affects a shocked expression, and the end of his ponytail touches his chest like a hand over his heart. "Why Constable, I am _appalled_ you think I would let someone overcharge _me_! I've known about the offworlder rate for _years_ \- and I always haggle."

"Uh-huh." Quark grins. "But did you haggle _successfully_?"

As much as Odo hates any implication he's any less than successful at anything, he loves it when Quark gives him a genuine grin. 

"My _dear_ Constable," Odo replies, "I was _such_ a success that I could give you a glass on the house and _still_ not lose any profit."

Quark raises a browridge. "So you're offering a free glass, then?"

Odo raises a brow back. "Are you accepting?"

"I might accept a free glass of Slug-O-Cola," Quark says casually. "If there aren't any strings attached."

"Strings?" Odo affects an innocent expression. "Such as...?"

"Oh, I don't know, attempting to corral me into a dinner date?"

"You humanoids constantly need to eat," Odo points out. "I was merely suggesting that I could accompany you at dinner, since you always eat alone."

Quark frowns. "Not always."

"Ah, yes, I misspoke." Odo gazes up at the ceiling, as if he's calculating, as if he doesn't already know it by heart. "Approximately 19 out of 20 times, so not _technically_ always, but still incredibly often."

"Hmph." Quark folds his arms. "That's not going to make you the 20th time out of 20, by the way. No dinner dates."

Odo answers with a disgruntled grunt of his own. 

"And no 'pretend you're my boyfriend so the trader I've angered with my own foolishness stops trying to incinerate me," Quark adds. 

"I've only done that once!" Odo protests. He leans closer on the counter. "Besides, you made quite the heroic arrest when he tried to shoot me again."

"Only because he was being a danger to the public in general." Quark doesn't lean closer to him at all, but he doesn't lean away, either, which Odo decides to consider a bonus. "No pretend relationships."

"I'd be more than happy to have a real one," Odo says in a low, dreamy voice. 

Seductive Register Number Five has the intended effect - Quark _does_ blush this time, and Odo revels at the involuntary reaction. _He_ did that. He caused that irrepressible manifestation of feeling.

Quark coughs. The blush doesn't fade. "And no holosuite sessions booked under my name. I'm not going to join you in one of your obscene little programs, and I don't have time to deal with the notifications made by your false reservations."

"They're not all obscene," Odo corrects, though a good many of them are, but that's beside the point. "I'll have you know that a little hedonism now and again is _healthy_ for a humanoid -"

"And could you stop lumping me in with humanoids as a whole? Ferengi have been a distinct civilization for eons longer than most of the barbarians in the Alpha Quadrant."

Odo supposes that's a fair point. He grunts. "Note taken. But I still resent the implication that I only peddle holographic erotica - Chief O'Brien and Dr. Bashir have been enjoying a _number_ of wholesome adventures set in the most _utterly_ boring historical eras of Earth." 

Quark's mouth twitches. "They're still fascinated by that 'Al and Moe' program, then?"

" _The_ Alamo," Odo corrects, "though I don't understand what's so special about it. Nobody else ever bothers trying to reserve it, so I can't charge an extra waiting list fee."

"How tragic that must be for you." Quark's reveling in his annoyance. "But I still don't want any holosuite reservations made in my name unless I'm the one making them, is that clear?"

Odo nods, somewhat deflated.

Smiling, Quark unfolds his arms, then sits himself down at the counter.

"What are you doing?" Odo asks.

"Waiting for my ice cold glass of the latest seasonal Slug-O-Cola," Quark replies innocently. "I believe it's on the house? With no strings attached?"

Odo stares at him for a moment, then smiles back. 

"Coming right up," he says.


End file.
